


Where Beauty Flies

by floorcoaster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floorcoaster/pseuds/floorcoaster
Summary: When Pansy needs to retake her Transfiguration N.E.W.T., she gets help from an unexpected place.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley
Comments: 36
Kudos: 70
Collections: Transfiguration: 2020 Round One





	Where Beauty Flies

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DBQ2020Round1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2020Round1) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> The theme for this round of the competition was Transfiguration and my chosen pairing was Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley.
> 
> Comments/Reviews are encouraged by The Slytherin Cabal's Admin Team on all stories in Death By Quill, but comments left by readers are set to be moderated by story authors until the end of the competition in order to protect participants' anonymity. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta for their time and help.

Pansy’s summer was ruined. 

Hyacinth Parkinson, her mother, had decided that the ‘A’ Pansy had earned on her N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration stood for Abysmal, not Acceptable, and had arranged for a tutor to be sent from the Ministry. She had four weeks of lessons, two hours a day plus whatever work the tutor assigned, and she’d be retaking her exam at the end. There would be no outings with friends until it was concluded.

The day she was to expect the tutor brought sunshine, a gentle breeze, and the knowledge that she would be stuck inside for most of it. 

Pansy dressed with care. She didn't want to seem too interested, either in the subject or her tutor, but first impressions mattered, and this Ministry individual held the key to her Outstanding. She needed to impress but not shock. She’d tried to ascertain whether her tutor was male or female, but her mother had insisted she didn't know. 

In the end, she went with something very similar to her school uniform: dark grey wool skirt, button-down shirt, and flats. She braided her long black hair into a thick, single, braid and kept the makeup to a minimum. She thought the look was serious and studious. 

At two minutes before nine, Hyacinth knocked on the door of the parlor to announce her arrival. “Pansy, darling. Your tutor is here. I believe he will be adequate.” A wizard wrapped in a dark traveling cloak entered and Hyacinth gave Pansy an amused grin. “I will leave you to your remedial work.”

The wizard began removing his cloak and Pansy gasped when she saw a shock of red hair. “You're a Weasley!”

“Oh, yes.” He glanced at a lock of hair hanging over his forehead. “I supposed that's a dead giveaway.” 

Pansy made a face. “You’re the one who was Head Boy.”

He chuckled. “That’s true, I was Head Boy when you were at Hogwarts. However, my oldest brother was also. My name is Percy.” He held out his hand and Pansy gingerly shook it. 

“If I recall correctly, you thought very highly of yourself.”

Percy looked surprised, then smiled sheepishly. “If you don’t judge me on my past, I will extend you the same courtesy.”

Pansy’s cheeks felt warm.

“Shall we get started?” Percy asked.

Under his cloak, Percy wore brown trousers, a pale blue button-down shirt, and a black and green plaid sport coat with silver buttons. Percy was a slim man, but she thought his fingers boasted a quiet strength. She had never been even remotely attracted to any of the Weasley men before, but there was something in his light blue eyes and the way he carried himself that caught her attention. He had a quiet confidence she wasn’t used to seeing and was suddenly uncharacteristically unsure of herself. 

“Miss Parkinson?”

Pansy snapped to attention. “Yes, of course. There is simply nothing I would rather do right now,” she said haughtily, hoping to hide her lapse in decorum. She casually took a seat on one end of the sofa and watched him.

“Right, then. Let's get to it. As you know, your mother requested someone to help bring your N.E.W.T. score in Transfiguration up to snuff, and here I am. Why don't you Transfigure something for me?”

Pansy sighed dramatically and flicked her wand at a teacup sitting on the end table. It became a coffee cup. 

“Ah. I see.” Percy inspected the cup. The only difference was that the teacup was now the shape of a mug. He stepped back. “Conjure a quill.”

She did so unenthusiastically, producing a plain, black feather with a simple silver tip. 

Percy frowned, then drew his own wand. “Transfiguration has a bad reputation for being hard and systematic. Much is said of exact wand movements and precise incantations, but what people don’t always see is that it’s an art, as well.” Percy came alive as he spoke and Pansy found herself leaning forward in her seat. “The beauty of Transfiguration, the art of it, is in seeing something different in what’s right in front of you.” With a flourish, he Transfigured her quill into a deep red feather with thick black and thin gold stripes. The end was long and golden, with intricate filigree down the shaft to the tip. Pansy gasped, eyes widening at the truly beautiful quill. “Try again.”

With a smirk, she turned his red quill green, replacing his design with an emerald-eyed serpent slithering down the shaft, its tongue the tip. His eyes flashed for a moment with surprise, then narrowed playfully as his lips ghosted a smile. 

“Transfigure this mouse into a snuffbox.”

She wanted to roll her eyes at the first-year spell but did as she was told, conjuring a simple polished silver box embossed with the Slytherin crest. Then Percy performed the same spell, making a gold box with pictures on each of the sides depicting scenes from Hogwarts. The top showed a photo of the Hogwarts lake featuring the Giant Squid. Pansy laughed without thinking. 

It became a competition of sorts, with Pansy trying desperately to achieve something close to what Percy could do. He was sparing in his praise, but she could tell when he was pleased and it made her swell with pride. By the end, the room was littered with increasingly ornate and ridiculous items, including a singing cauldron that Percy had charmed to shout “Weasley is our King!” whenever anybody got close.

“Who knew you had a sense of humor?” Pansy remarked after they’d stopped for the day. 

“There’s a lot people don’t know about me.” Percy put his wand away and sat in a chair. “Tell me why you want to improve in Transfiguration.”

All Pansy had ever heard was that it was important in the fashion world, but she didn’t give a rat’s arse about a career in fashion. Wizarding fashion had always been her mother’s interest, but when Pansy’s father had forbidden is, Hyacinth decided she wanted her daughter to live the life she’d been denied. Naturally Pansy rebelled and put as little effort as possible into the subject. 

With a sigh, she replied. “My mother wants me to improve and I don’t want to argue.”

Percy waited for more, then nodded. “I see. Miss Parkinson, based on our time today, I find you are a very capable witch.” He began clearing away the mess of their work. “I believe your score in Transfiguration was due mainly to apathy; if you applied yourself, you could excel. For next time, I want you to write an essay on why you want to learn Transfiguration.” He held up a hand to stem her protest. “I know your mother is behind this, but if we’re going to make any progress, I need you to find _your_ why. Send me your reply via owl. Take your time. I’ll tell your mother you have an assignment to work on. But I won’t return until I’ve read your essay and I know you’re ready.”

She frowned. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure?” He quirked an eyebrow and gave her an easy smile that made her insides feel wiggly. It was not at all unpleasant. “See you soon.” In one fluid movement, he slung his cloak over his shoulder and left.

* * *

When he didn’t show up the following three days, Pansy sent him a short paragraph stating that she wanted to learn Transfiguration because it would help in her future fashion career. 

He’d returned it with a big red “X” across the parchment and the words “Nice try” written at the bottom. 

Friday after tea, when Hyacinth remarked on Percy’s continued absence, Pansy sat down to consider his assignment in earnest. She wanted to learn the subject because of her mother—it was simply that. Then a memory struck out of nowhere. In fifth year, during career counseling, her Head of House had suggested she might enjoy designing, only not in fashion. She thought of the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes catalog she’d kept hidden under her mattress and the hours she’d spent trying to figure out how the products worked, what spells, potions or charms were involved. Snape had said that Transfiguration would give her a grounded understanding of the fundamentals of magic that would allow success in any kind of design work she chose. 

Pansy hesitantly started writing this memory down, and from there the words flowed like water. Her final essay was over two feet of parchment, and she quickly sent it off before she could talk herself out of it. 

An hour later, Percy’s reply was, “See you Monday.”

* * *

On the Monday of the second week, Pansy decided that she found Percy attractive. The lopsided grin he sent her way when she surprised him sent a shiver through her. 

By the end of that week, she'd discovered he had a dry sense of humor that made her laugh despite her best efforts to find him dull. 

Early in the third week, she accidentally—on purpose?—Vanished his shirt. He’d gone stiff for a moment, then let out a low whistle. “I’m glad you were using a mild spell.” He’d nonchalantly fished in his coat pocket for a handkerchief, as if he regularly about his business shirtless. “You can use this to Transfigure me a new shirt.”

When they concluded lessons that week, Percy let slip that his greatest weakness was seeking the approval of others. 

“The problem is, I’ve wanted to please the wrong people,” he confessed. “I should be seeking what makes me happy. Because there will never be enough approval from others to make me happy. It’s something I’m working on.”

It struck her deeply because despite her internal denials, she really did want to please her mother. However, he was absolutely right about where true happiness would be found.

* * *

Percy arrived early on their final day of work before the exam and they got right to work. Where before the atmosphere had settled into something casual, where they laughed and joked and continued the light competition started that first day, today he was all business. Pansy was asked to perform spell after spell, quickly and without pause. She handled each request with accuracy, precision, and style, drawing more than one appreciative grin from Percy. 

With thirty minutes remaining, Percy called a halt. Pansy sank onto the floor, out of breath and exhausted from the mental and physical exertion. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, focusing on taking deep breaths. She sensed Percy join her, sitting close enough she could feel his presence but far enough that she ached. He, too, was out of breath. Neither spoke. 

Then Percy turned to her. “You’re going to nail that test tomorrow, Miss Parkinson.” 

She smiled, genuinely pleased despite being annoyed that he still refused to call her Pansy. “I think you might be right, Mr. Weasley.” She bit her lip as she remembered it was their last day. “Tell me why they sent you.” She’d wanted to ask him since the beginning. 

He sighed. “I volunteered. I love Transfiguration. And... this may surprise you, but I'm not the most popular bloke at the Ministry.” 

“No.” She flashed him an exaggerated look of disbelief. 

“Hard to imagine, I know. But it’s true.” He chuckled. “I made some bad choices during the war, aligned myself with the wrong people at the Ministry. I came to my senses in the end, but it was too little, too late for some. I still have my job, but that's probably only because of my father. Nobody knows what to do with me, so I've been shuffled around this past year. I've started looking for something else, even though all I ever wanted was to make something of myself there—to excel, stand out, be important. After seeing what that looked like...” He shook his head. “It's been a year of self-discovery. Thankfully my family supports me. But I don't think the Ministry is in my future any time soon. I heard a rumor that McGonagall will be stepping back from teaching now that she's Headmistress and I’d like to apply for the position.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “From what I recall about your time as Head Boy, you had rather a penchant for following rules. Everyone said you were… rather uptight. To put it nicely.”

Percy laughed. “I certainly was.” A shadow fell over his features and the smile faded. “But then I saw my brother die. So many things simply didn't matter anymore. Fred had never looked at me with anything but contempt, especially those last few years. But just before he died, he looked at me with respect. I never had a chance to…” He trailed off. 

Pansy couldn't help but be moved by Percy’s story and she put her hand on his arm in sympathy. He stiffened and looked down at where she was touching him, then awkwardly extracted himself. She felt the sting of rejection bitterly and wanted nothing more than to hate him for making her care. 

Then he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. “Miss Parkinson.” He swallowed. “Pansy. There cannot be even a whisper of misconduct in what we're doing. I am your tutor.”

In that moment, she realized Percy Weasley had been Transfigured in her mind over the course of their time together. Where once she saw someone impossibly hard, someone she could never enjoy spending time with, she now saw someone impossibly good and kind; she found the thought of never seeing him again extremely distasteful.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.” He didn’t wait for a response. “What are you going to do next? Maybe you should think about fashion after all. I got a quite a few compliments on that shirt you made me, you know. Though it’s a bit snug.”

She blushed, remembering how much she’d enjoyed watching him put it on. It had been a tight fit. She hadn’t minded at all, and she’d revisited that particular memory more times than she cared to count. Getting it to fit him just right was tricky and she’d been pleased with her work, even though deep down she just wanted to Vanish it again. 

Clearing her throat, she said, “I have no intention of going into fashion. But I don’t really know what I’m going to do. You know I only went along with this because it was easier than arguing with my mother. I’d never given much thought to what I’d wanted to do because I always assumed I’d marry rich and throw parties and drink tea and shop.”

Percy nodded thoughtfully. “Something changed, about a week ago. I noticed a shift in your focus and attention, and your work started to become exquisite.”

Pansy squirmed mentally. She knew exactly what the change had been, and she’d hoped he would chalk it up to his excellent teaching skills. But no, he had to go and be him: thoughtful, observant, meticulous. “Do you want the truth?”

“Of course.” He grinned. “I take everything into consideration when I think about my future. Whatever successes I can catalog will help inform my decisions.”

She cringed a bit, knowing that her information probably wouldn't help him. She’d never been particular brave when it came to matters of the heart, but the reality was, after today, she had no reason to see Percy ever again. Their paths could only cross by complete accident. Something about that gave her strength she’d never known existed.

“Do you remember what you told me that first day?”

“I said a lot of brilliant things.”

She smacked him playfully on the arm and took a deep breath. “You said the beauty in Transfiguration is in seeing something different than what’s right in front of you.”

His easy grin faltered, something deep and mysterious dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to actually remember.” 

“Maybe you should listen to yourself, then.” She didn’t look at him, instead scratched at a smudge of something on the floor. “The truth, _Percy_ , is that I finally understood what you meant. I came to realize it applied to me. When I saw you that first day, I knew everything I needed to know about you. You were a Weasley and I despised you on principle. But you are nothing like I’d thought. A realization has been plaguing me since last week: I… I don’t want to never see you again.” She thought that was sufficient. There was no need to go into detail about how her heart raced when he walked in the room, how she craved every touch, no matter how incidental, how much she thought of him. She’d gotten to know him; he was kind and considerate, serious yet playful, quiet but strong.

“That’s how you were able to turn a teacup into a crystal vase?” He chuckled. 

She scowled fiercely but then saw a fire in his eyes she’d not seen before. 

His expression became serious. “As I said before, there can be no hint of impropriety in what we're doing. When you take your test tomorrow, the administrators must have no cause to question your abilities. However.” He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled awkwardly. “My thoughts about you of late have not been entirely… proper.”

Her heart pounded and she glanced at his hand, only a scant few inches from her own. The reality of his words sank in, though, and she resisted the urge to touch him. “Will you be at my exam?”

“I can be.”

She dared meet his gaze. “And after that?”

His hand twitched, as though he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted him to. “After that, I’ll take you to lunch. We can discuss proper shirt sizing. It’s very important to have a solid understanding of it in the fashion industry, you know.”

Pansy laughed. She couldn’t wait.


End file.
